Harry Potter and The Ring of Sauron
by Iocane
Summary: Formally 'Spells Trouble' Harry lands himself in Middle Earth and joins the Fellowship. Rating will change as chapters are added. Eventually will be NC-17 and slash. Chapter 3 added.
1. Arriving in Middle Earth

Harry Potter stepped into the center of the Griffyndor boys bedroom, facing his own bed in case anything went amiss. He was practicing a rather complicated conjuring spell. Still recovering from a nasty cold that even Madam Pomfrey had been unable to treat effectively, he was behind in his practice. Reading over Hermoine's notes once more, he repeated the spell in his head, muttering a few of the syllables. Raising his wand, he began slowly, stumbling over a few phrases, hoping they wouldn't muddle the spell too much.  
  
"Win-wimfidious lustor! Redouble-dei enacoi" the tip of his wand began to sparkle and he whispered a quiet thank you before continuing the spell. "Ergosoius liv-liventorian!" slowly, he began drawing a circle in the air, meant to outline the image he was to 'conjur'. "Pictorious ... uh ... oh! Pictorious tostodium!" He concentrated on the item he was trying to conjur - a ring Ron had given to Hermoine over the summer. "Ellias turfumptem amenephous!!" At these last words the tip of his wand exploded and Harry was propelled backwards.  
  
Hitting the dirt floor hard, he groaned.  
  
Several forms rushed towards him, hands ready to tug him to his feet. "Frodo? Are you ..." the voices died away as he raised his head, looking around in confusion. "Who are you?" he saw he was no longer in the boys room. "Where am I?"  
  
"Who are we?" A small man asked, pushing into Harry's face. "Who're you? And what've you done with Master Frodo?!" The little man drew back a fist, then stopped when a large hand settled on his shoulder.  
  
From where Harry sat, the man resembled a slender, far less shaggy Hagrid. The man knelt, his grey eyes searching Harry's face. "What's your name, little one?" There was a brief scuffle and the Ranger prince looked to see Merry and Pippin tugging Sam a short ways away.  
  
"Harry Potter," he answered, his heart racing. He wondered briefly if Voldemort had somehow kidnapped him, then he realized the oddest thing of all. His scar didn't hurt. Not even the vague tingle it usually had when he worked complicated spells. "Where am I, and how did I get here? And who are you?"  
  
"I am known as Strider in these parts." The man felt no ill towards the stranger, but he thought it was wisest not to use his true name just yet. The dark lord became more devious and powerful every day, this could simply be his latest attempt to seize the ring. The thought sent a small shudder of fear through the man. If they were so vulnerable so far away from his center of power, Middle Earth truly had no hope. "Where you are is the Prancing Pony in the town of Bree. Though that might mean nothing to you." There was a complete lack of recognition in the boys eyes.  
  
"It doesn't ... How did I get here? I was working on a spell for class and -"  
  
"Spell?" Aragorn's brows shot up. "Are you a wizard, boy?" His suspicion was roused at the possibility. With one exception, he had little trust for the mysterious half-men of magic. Also, he had thought that he knew the names, if not the faces of all of them. None kept an appearance of a boy.  
  
"Well, still learning ... I haven't had my OWL's yet." Harry's voice cracked slightly with panic.  
  
"Owls? You're an animal wizard?" The man probed.  
  
"What? No ... Ordinary Wizarding Levels ..." His eyes widened. "A muggle!" he said before he could stop himself.  
  
"A-what?" Aragorn's patience wore thin and he shook Harry lightly. "If you are a wizard, what have you done with Frodo, and who do you answer to?"  
  
Harry winced at the sharpness of the man's words and the shake. "I don't know who Frodo is! I ... Dumbledor! He's the headmaster!"  
  
"Headmaster of what?" This boy was very confusing, Aragorn had no idea what to make of his outlandish answers.  
  
"Headmaster of Hogwarts! It's where I go to school." Harry was growing desperate. "If Voldemort's behind this-"  
  
"Who is Voldemort?" The way Aragorn said the name without a trace of fear or hesitance Harry knew he had no idea who the dark wizard was.  
  
"He's ... he's ..." Harry suddenly felt drained, as though something had sucked a great deal of energy from him and his body just now realized it. Strider caught his head before it hit the ground, letting him settle carefully. He noticed strange robes under Frodo's clothes, and the ring still on it's chain about the boys neck. Covering him with Frodo's blanket, he went to talk to the Hobbits before the boy woke. 


	2. Setting out from Bree

Harry blinked as he awoke to a hand on his shoulder. "Wake up, Harry," the man called Strider leaned over him.  
  
"I'm awake," Harry sat up, reaching automatically for his glasses. When he didn't find them, he began looking around for them.  
  
"What're you looking for?"  
  
"My glasses ... I had them when ..." He continued looking around, squinting in the dim, early morning light.  
  
"Harry," Strider tugged on his arm. "Come. I don't know what you're looking for, but we must start out."  
  
Harry stood, still looking about. Suddenly one of the small men approached him, holding something that looked vaguely familiar. "Is this what you need?" He held Harry's glasses in front of his face.  
  
"Yes, thank you!" Taking them, Harry pulled them on, then groaned as he noticed a large crack down the middle of the right lens, and a smaller one in the middle of the left. They must have been broken during ... whatever had happened.  
  
"I'm Merry," the small man said. "This is Pippin," he gestured to one of his companions. "And that's Sam." Merry indicated the one who had tried to deck Harry last night. He was more bulky than the others. Merry and Pippin had a more slender build, and the only difference immediately apparent to Harry was that Merry had lighter hair than either Pippin or Sam.  
  
"Nice to meet you," he shook hands warmly with Merry and Pippin. Sam's hand wasn't as firm, and he eyed Harry warily.  
  
"Come, little ones," Strider interrupted. "We have much ground to cover before nightfall."  
  
Merry groaned. "Nightfall! Night hasn't even risen yet!"  
  
"Get moving!" Strider batted the small man lightly, mostly in an effort to get them moving more than to hurt him in any way.  
  
"All right, all right!"  
  
As they travelled, Strider told Harry a little bit about what was going on. The three shorter men were called Hobbits. They were going to see the Elves, but strider didn't mention why. Until the night he appeared, they had been traveling with a fourth hobbit called Frodo, in whose clothes he had appeared. Harry asked if the ring around his neck was anything special, and Strider gave him a very strange look. "It's very special. Keep it close, young Harry, but never wear it." Harry wondered at this strange set of instructions, but the intensity of Strider's eyes convinced him it was a good idea to obey. Harry wondered about the Elves Strider talked about. He was used to "elves" as small, big-eared servants. Clearly these elves were different, but Strider had gone to scout ahead before Harry could ask. He tried asking one of the Hobbits, but got caught up in a story Merry was telling them about Gandolf and some fireworks.  
  
When they made camp that night, Harry tried to work out his clothing situation. He had been wearing his Hogwarts robes under the clothes Frodo had been wearing, plus his regular clothes under the robes. He hadn't said anything during the day as Strider seemed to be in a great hurry. Taking the Hobbit clothes and Hogwarts robes off, Harry felt much better. Before packing the clothes up, he checked the pockets of the robe. The Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans he put in the bottom of the sack, not in the mood to risk finding a boiled cabbage flavored one like he had the day before. While he was packing, he realized something. His wand was missing. He unpacked his entire bag, shaking everything out to no avail. Merry asked what he was looking for and Harry told him.  
  
"Wand? I didn't see anything like that. All that was there besides you was those," he gesture to Harry's broken glasses. "And a pretty feather."  
  
"A feather?" Harry's wand was made with a phoenix feather inside. "Did you keep it?"  
  
Merry looked bashful. "Pippin did, he said it was very pretty. Do you want it?"  
  
Harry looked down. "No ... thanks. He can keep it." He went back to packing his bag, his arms feeling a bit heavier as he thought of the loss of his wand. Shaking the robe out again for re-rolling, something fluttered out. Looking down, he realized it was one of his Famous Wizard Cards from the chocolate frog's he'd had at lunch the day before. Checking a forgotten inner pocket of the robe, he found three more. Setting them aside, he repacked the bag and set it at the end of his sleeping roll. He didn't like the idea of sleeping on the ground, but he reasoned it was probably better than most of his accommodations at the Durlsey's.  
  
Settling down for sleep, he tried looking at the cards, but the reminder of Dumbledor was too much at the moment and he tucked them into his bag. Lying back on his bedroll, he wondered about what had happened to him. During the day he had been largely in shock, and otherwise occupied with rather stealthy travel. He tried to think of what had happened to cause the Apperation. A small part of him worried what the Ministry of Magic would say when they found him - He wasn't supposed to be Apperating as he hadn't tested for it yet. A larger part was occupied with whether the Ministry of Magic would find him at all. Still musing over what happened, he rolled to his side and felt something warm and hard brush his chest. Gasping, he saw a flash of Gryffindor common room. In it were Ron, Hermoine, Hagrid, Dumbledor, all the people he missed from "his" world. Suddenly, he was struck with a sense of dread. He knew that if he did something, he'd be able to go home. What was it, he wondered, fingering the chain at his neck. The ring brushed his hand and he looked down. It glinted in the moonlight and he was overcome by the urge to slip it onto his finger, somehow convinced that would get him home. Holding in his left hand, he moved the right towards it, index finger extended.  
  
"HARRY!!" Strider grabbed his wrist, yanking his hand and making him drop the ring. The weight settled on his shirt, but he was no longer touching it.   
  
"Wha?" He looked dazed, his hand drifting from Strider's face to the large hand on his wrist. "What happened?"  
  
"You almost put it on, Harry." Strider released his hand. "You almost put the ring on. Why? I told you not to." He knelt at the boy's side, sharp eyes studying him.  
  
Harry could feel Strider's gaze even though he couldn't see him. "I was? I didn't realize ..." Thoughts began to surface. "I thought maybe if I put it on, I'd get home." His voice was suddenly very young, not that of a fifteen year old.  
  
Strider's face softened and he rested his hand on Harry's unruly hair. "Did you think, or were you told?" he asked gently.  
  
"I ... Now that you mention it ... Told. Something ... I saw Gryffindor commons and I just wanted to get home." He blinked back tears, the first he could remember in a long time. "Strider, what's this ring all about, and why do I have it?"  
  
Sighing, Strider stood. "Come. I must keep watch. If you're not sleeping you may as well come with me." They moved to a boulder near the edge of their camp. It gave an adequate view of the road while a tree disguised them. In a hushed voice, Strider outlined a brief history of the ring, explaining it's ancient origins and power. That's why they were going to the elves, Gandalf had said to consult Elrond and await him there if he didn't find the group before then.  
  
Harry listened intently, absorbing the information and assimilating it. "Elves! I meant to ask before ... What do elves look like? The ones at home ... Well, they're not exactly what you'd consult about anything but dish soap and herbs."  
  
Strider laughed softly. "Well, elves here are ancient. Elrond himself must be several thousand years old."  
  
Harry choked at the number. The oldest wizard he'd ever heard of was Nicolas Flamel who had only just topped six hundred before his death. Most didn't live a third that long - Dumbledor himself wasn't much over 150. Strider waited for Harry to recover before he continued. "They're tall. Bit taller than a Man. They're called the Fair Folk by many people, some Hobbits included. They're very close to nature, trees, grass, mountains. Imladris is one of the most beautiful places in Middle Earth,"  
  
"Where's that?"  
  
"It's Rivendell, where we're going. Imlardis is the Elven name for it."  
  
"Oh." Suddenly Harry let out a mighty yawn. "I think it's all catching up to me." he slid from the rock. "Will you get some sleep?"  
  
Strider nodded. "I'll find rest before dawn."  
  
"Okay, Good night."  
  
Harry curled up under his covers and fell into a sound sleep.  
  
When the boy left, Strider found himself wondering about the scar on his forehead. He seemed young, and not very battleworthy and he found himself wondering how Harry had gotten it. Clearing his mind, he settled back on the rock, entering a meditative state that allowed him to rest while still being alert to any changes in his surroundings. 


	3. Ringwraith Attack and Crossing the Ford

The next day they arose early to the smell of something cooking. Aragorn had killed something in the night and was roasting it over a fire with several small bits of bread warming on rocks. Climbing out of the covers, Harry accepted a leg of ... whatever, and one of the slices of bread. They ate quickly and quietly, breaking camp before the sun had fully risen over the mountains.  
  
For several days they traveled, on foot most of the way, Strider scouting ahead of them. The Hobbits told stories a great deal of the time, engaging Harry with their sheer enthusiasm. At times, he almost forgot who else he had been. It only lasted a few moments though before something would remind him just how far from home he was. His feet began to trouble him after a few days. He'd been wearing a rather thin pair of house shoes while he was practicing. Not wishing to slow them down, he said nothing, simply bearing the pain and discomfort.  
  
A week or so after his arrival, they were camping atop a hill. They were settling down for sleep when a noise startled them. Harry's first thought at seeing the attacker that the Dementors had somehow found him. A surge of hope leapt up in him at the thought of something - anything - that was familiar. He soon realized that they hunched, shrouded figure was nothing like the Dementors he was familiar with. Metal clanged in the night as Strider fought him. There was movement to Harry's side and he looked just in time to see a knife coming at him. Another one of the Dementor things had thrown it, hitting his shoulder and throwing him back against the tree.  
  
Some time later, he awoke in a daze. "Ron?" he blinked at the face in front of his.  
  
"No ... it's Merry. Are you awake?" Harry could feel something on his shoulder. His hand heavy, he reached to feel what it was as he seemed unable to move his head.  
  
"Don't touch it, Harry." Strider stayed his hand. "I'm almost done." he tied the bandage and slipped Harry's arm into a length of cloth being used as a sling. "You'll ride from now on."  
  
Harry nodded, wondering why a simple stab wound had affected him so much. He felt himself being lifted up and something was tied loosely around his legs. "Wha?" he tried to tug free.  
  
"Easy Harry," he vaguely recognized Pippin's voice. "Just to keep you from falling off."  
  
Harry groaned softly as he rode, feeling more drained than tired or in pain. He know he passed out a few times, or at least slept. Opening his eyes, he would see the scenery was vastly different and the day much later than when he had shut them.  
  
That night they made camp, the Hobbit's gently laying Harry on his bedrolls. They also fed him when he proved unable to do so himself. Firm, small hands gently lifted him to a sitting position and drew him back against a firm side while another of the Hobbits carefully fed him broth and water. They seemed very concerned and Harry thought he heard them speaking in hushed voices later that night.  
  
Despite his exhaustion and poor condition, Harry did not sleep much that night. He was plagued by memories of home - Summer at the Weasley's, Daigon Alley, visiting Hogmead's with Ron and Hermoine, spending the evenings with Hagrid and he creature of the week. Again he was overcome with an urge to slip the ring onto his finger as a means of getting home. When he tried to put it on, he found his arms were too heavy despite his best efforts to lift them. Finally he gave up, simply enduring the memories, tears rolling down his cheeks.  
  
The next day he awoke astride the horse, the company already on their way. Some ways ahead he could make out a figure with a white body and yellow head. Strider stopped and talked to it for a minute and then it approached Harry. Hands were untying his legs from the horse while the white-yellow thing reached for him. Pulling away, a voice soothed him. "Calm down, little one. I'm going to take you where you can be helped." The voice spoke with an accent that Harry could not place. The gentleness of the words and a feeling of sincerity and safety relaxed him. Blinking, he found himself lifted easily off the pony and draped across the saddle of what he now realized was a horse with rider. Looking up at the rider, he knew at once that it was an elf. Strider hadn't lied about their beauty. Harry's head rolled against the chest as he passed out again.  
  
A thundering below him woke Harry again. The horse was going very, very fast and Harry was amazed he wasn't falling off. The horse leapt and Harry's head sagged backwards. Behind them he glimpsed several black horses behind him. The elf lifted his head back up as soon as he what happened. "Ignore them, Harry. You'll be safe soon."  
  
Suddenly, the horse came to a halt. Turning his head wearily, he could see a river ahead of them. The elf began coaxing the horse across the swiftly rushing water. When they were halfway across, the ones chasing began crossing, having considerable more difficulty with their horses. At the other side, the horse carrying Harry and his elf savior turned around. Harry heard him say something in a language he didn't recognize and suddenly the sound of rushing water stopped, replaced by a sound Harry couldn't place. Lifting his head, he saw what looked like a wall of foam approaching the riders in the river. A supernatural screaming pierced his ears as the wall came crashing down on them, drowning them and their horse. That too died down and the river returned to normal. Harry felt a hand on his head and heard the elf speak again. "Come, little one. You're safe now, and will soon be healed." The horse turned again and Harry slipped into unconsciousness. 


End file.
